A Moist Morning
by Mai Secrets
Summary: This is a story that features bedwetting and a kink for wetting. This is also called omorashi, if this is not something that you enjoy please do not read this story. This is also a slash story. Summary- Sherlock wets the bed and John really is okay with it. The prompt I wrote to is on my profile page.
1. Original Version

**A/n My first omo story here.** **Most of my Omo stories will be written from a prompt. For each I will place the complete prompt and the location I found said prompt, if I know, in my profile under the story title.**

* * *

Light was steaming through the window and despite how comfortable he was the rays of sun woke Sherlock. He opened his eyes and saw John's sleeping face right next to him. The memories of the case they had solved and their first kiss immediately came to mind. He smiled in a contented way as he debated whether or not he should go back to sleep or try to get out of John's hold without waking him.

He'd had a nice dream before and he was sure that any other that he would have would be just as pleasant were he to fall back asleep.

Suddenly he realized that something did not feel right. His brow furrowed trying to understand what had ruined the perfection that he had felt only a moment before. He blamed sleeping for clouding his mind.

Deciding that he would figure it out later he settled down with a deep breath, hoping to get back to the dream about the new specie of bee he had found in a forest, vaguely he remembered waking from that dream for a moment, but being too comfortable to move, and that's when it hit him. His pajamas felt clammy and the scent in the air was unmistakable. He had wet the bed and it was made worse because John was in the bed with him. Any second the man would wake and notice what had happened. John would look at him like he was a disgusting creature and would leave walking out of the flat and his life forever.

Silent tears started to flow at that vision of the future and that was when he noticed that not only had he wet the bed sometime during the night he already had to go again. Really badly. He squeezed his legs together tightly blushing as he felt a spurt release into his sleepwear. It was only a little bit, less than half a second's worth of urine, but it put him so much closer to losing it and wetting the bed again. Even if he were to wake John now it wouldn't matter because the moment he stood he would lose the fight.

He cast a glace over at John. He was surprised that neither his earlier accident nor his current squirming had woken him. John must have been very tired to sleep so deeply.

Another bit escaped him and he thrust his hands into his pants grabbing himself tightly to hold on just a little longer. He had no idea why he was trying to hold on. There was no missing what had already happened once. The most hopeless members of the police could deduce it and John was far above that level. Perhaps he was holding out hope that John would leap from bed, possibly needing to use the loo himself, never noticing the previous accident, perhaps coming to the incorrect conclusion that some urine had escaped before he had awoke to explain away the scent, and leaving him, behind in the bed, to soak the sheets once again John being none the wiser.

An impossible fantasy he decided when another leak occurred despite his hand and clenched legs. The tears were coming more steadily now. He bit his bottom lip to keep quiet. No sense in disgracing himself further.

He squeezed his member harder feeling the moist heat and sweat coat his hand. There was another spurt, longer this time, a full second worth. Then a few moments later another coated his hand and pajamas. He could feel the wet spot growing with each release and trickling over his thighs. He couldn't stop the trickles anymore no matter how hard he squeezed himself. His breath hitched as the dam of his willpower collapsed. The trickle increased from steady droplets to full on flood. His bladder emptying itself in such a rush that it actually hurt.

The heat spread through his pants and he could feel the wetness pooling beneath him. The hissing sound was obscenely loud and despite the intensity of the flow it did not stop quickly. A minute passed and he was still going. The bed was soaked and he knew the stain had spread all over by now. He felt movement in the bed and turned away. The comforter was tossed off and he tried to stop going, but it was a wasted effort. A glance down showed a drenched bed and a pool of liquid still in the process of soaking everything. After a full three minutes he had finally finished reliving himself.

He covered his face with his hands and waited to hear the door slam behind behind an outraged John. The only silver lining was that this was his bed and their more-than-friends relationship as so new that there was at least a slim chance that he would be able to delete it.

"Sherlock you..." John started.

Sherlock wanted to give a snappy comeback and yell, but he couldn't because were he to open his mouth nothing would emerge, but sobs.

John looked at the enormous wet stain and noticed that the center area was a bit darker than the rest. He could tell that Sherlock was mortified by his accident so he decided to pretend he hadn't noticed that detail.

John swallowed hard. "Why don't you go shower and I'll clean this mess. Hopefully a little cleaner will save the mattress. While you shower I'll make breakfast."

Sherlock didn't move.

It was cold and not nice sitting bed soaked with urine, but John stayed. "Come on, Sherlock. Everything is fine it was just an accident."

Sherlock glared at John. Tears still leaked from his eyes, but the glare was not diminished for them. "Just go," Sherlock growled.

John gave him a confused look. Then he suddenly understood. "You thought I...? Do I really seem like that kind of man to you?"

"That's not what I..."

John felt that this was a good time to tell Sherlock something that he was going to bring up eventually. He had envisioned a different situation, but this one would do. "First of all I would never leave for something as inconsequential as a instance of bedwetting. Second of all I happen to have a fetish for this kind of thing so it all works out in the end."

John laughed at the look on Sherlock's face. "Don't get me wrong, humiliation is not my kink, but something about wetting just gets me there. Now let's get out of this puddle, change, and go about our plans."

Sherlock nodded and walked uncomfortably to the bathroom. By the time Sherlock was in at the kitchen table all evidence of his accident were gone.


	2. Alternate Ending

**A/n- I had this idea when I was writing the story and I typed it out to see how I liked it. It turned out well so I decided to post it as separate chapter.**

* * *

John felt that this was a good time to tell Sherlock something that he was going to bring up eventually. He had envisioned a different situation, but this one would do. "First of all I would never leave for something as inconsequential as a instance of bedwetting. Second of all I happen to have a fetish for this kind of thing so it all works out in the end."

John laughed at the look on Sherlock's face. "Don't get me wrong, humiliation is not my kink, but something about wetting just gets me there. Now let's get out of this puddle, change, and go about our plans."

"You don't have to lie to me to make me feel better," Sherlock sighed.

Since Sherlock didn't seem to think he was leaving him John could only conclude that Sherlock thought that it was impossible that he just so happened to have a wetting kink.

'Well,' thought John. 'I suppose actions speak louder than words.'

John scooted further into the puddle in the bed and that gained him a confused look from Sherlock. He locked his legs with Sherlock's and pulled at the other man until they both lay on their sides facing one another. Nervous excitement gripped him as he let his bladder release just a little. Sherlock's distress had made him limp enough to let go of a rather pressing need of his own. It was like clockwork, John always awoke with the need to pee.

"John what are you doing?" Sherlock asked with some alarm. It was a stupid question because he felt the new warm wetness from where John's lower body meet his and he knew exactly what John was doing. Then another, longer, burst of wetness touched him.

"I can stop now, and try to make it to the loo, I probably won't now that I've let a bit go, or I can let it all go right here."

Sherlock couldn't believe the turn the morning had taken. Seeing John so needy for a release was a real kick to the libido. Maybe he had a latent kink or maybe he just had a thing for John. Either way his answer was the same. He pulled John closer to him and the suddenness of the action broke John's fragile control. Urine gushed from him in a spectacular flood soaking everything once again.

Luckily, a few household cleaners and a little elbow grease saved the mattress, and the sheets were promptly washed. The next night saw the placement of a very adsorbent mattress pad just in case of another accident.


End file.
